


And I Found Love (Where it Wasn't Supposed to Be)

by thefairygami



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, Lawyer Christophe Giacometti, Lawyer Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phichit Chulanont is a Little Shit, Post-lawsuit, Pre-lawsuit, References to Depression, Slow Build, Slow Burn, There also might be some angst, There will be a court case, Vet Tech Phichit Chulanont, Veterinarian Katsuki Yuuri, idk im just kinda winging this, idk when, it's a k not a c you heathens, so is Yuuri, viktor is depressed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-07 06:45:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13429089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefairygami/pseuds/thefairygami
Summary: In which Viktor is a lost soul.And Yuuri might be the only one who can save him.





	1. Prologue

Common belief among some is that a solitary life is a life filled with peace and freedom of the mind and soul without any social tethers to weigh oneself down.

For this man, Viktor Nikiforov, it is not the case.

He wakes every morning to a bed too big and too cold for just one body alone. He stores his items in drawers and closets too large and too bare for only his possessions. He keeps his food items in pantries, cabinets and refrigerators left too spacious and too open for just himself.

He sleeps to one side of that too-large bed, never infringing on the empty side. He keeps his items strategically placed in certain areas of those drawers and closets, setting up invisible boundaries for himself to which he never dares to cross. He makes meals that would certainly feed more than just one mouth, leaving him with leftovers that in the end, he never winds up eating.

Viktor Nikiforov lives his life like he lives alongside a ghost of his past, longing for something he used to have. Except, he wasn’t dwelling on the past; instead, he waited for what the future would bring to him. That was what he was doing. He was waiting.

He was waiting for someone to come and fill that empty space in his bed so that he wouldn’t feel cold when he awoke. He was waiting for someone to come and stuff his empty drawers and closet space with their things. He waited for the day where someone who would help him eat those meals he makes, tell him how good his cooking was, and help him clean up afterwards.

He was waiting for all those gaping holes in his heart to be filled.

He was waiting for someone to come along to share his life with.

Viktor Nikiforov was waiting as patiently as ever for these moments to become a reality.


	2. Chapter 1 - Warning Signs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are things in life that make one realize just how inevitable or preventable something may be. Viktor was beginning to better understand this concept the more time progressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finna oof

The tired body of a man stilled by sleep began to stir at the sound of a phone alarm clock.

7:00AM.

Time to start a new day.

A fumbling hand reaches out from beneath the sheets of the bed, jabbing a finger against the home button a few times to silence the phone. The man lies there, in the soothing comfort of the Egyptian cotton sheets and thick duvet that covers him, bundling him up into a safe cocoon. Eyes still closed, he rubs his fingers against his temples, trying to ward off the loud persistence of sleep that ironically screamed at him to go back to sleep.

The man groans at the fatigue hounding incessantly at his mind, and he flips himself onto his left so he faces the empty side of the large bed. He manages to crack an eye open, the room slowly coming into focus as he blinks away the sleep that glues his eyes shut. The early morning sun managed to poke its way through the curtains, light trickling in and casting shadows onto the walls. Slowly pulling back the covers, he groans again once the sunlight assaults his distorted vision.

Crawling up on his pillow to escape the onset of brightness, he flops himself down, allowing his eyes to slip closed for  _just a little longer_ he tells himself. No matter how much he wanted to, he wouldn’t allow his mind to slip back into sleep.

To prevent himself from falling into another snooze, he forces himself to run through the days agenda, going through a variety of checklists he needed to complete and what he needed to get done at work. He made mental reminders on what was of the upmost importance, setting certain priorities higher than others.

Forcing his eyes open, the man blankly stares at the left side of the bed. He blinks slowly. It stretches out before him, void of any warmth and bare like a clean slate. He slides a hand over to it, splaying his fingers out across the sheets. He takes notice of how cool it is compared to where he lies, and how the emptiness of it spreads out before him, making him feel smaller, for it seemed to be mocking him, sneering at him for a reason he didn't, or couldn't, understand. He had always slept alone in this bed, there was never a overwhelming need to have that empty space beside him filled.

At least, not until now. Narrowing his eyes in confusion, the man contemplated whether or not this was something he should have been wary about. The more he began to question himself, a feeling of something heavy began to weigh itself down in his stomach. He frowned a little, flipping himself onto his back to try and make the feeling go away as he brushed off the thoughts in his head.

The movement alerted a brown mass of fur that slept at the foot of the bed. He vaguely felt the weight shift as the creature rose up and shook itself of its own sleep induced grogginess before leaping up onto the mattress. Then, he could feel the oncoming footsteps as they vibrated throughout the bed as well as the slight jingle of a collar. Before the man had a chance to guard himself, he was pounced on, the small amount of air he had managed to breathe in subsequently punched out. He grunted at the force.

“Makka… You’re killing me, sweet girl…” The man groaned out, triggering a happy bark, and an onslaught of wet, excited kisses to his face. Sitting up in the bed and pushing the pair of paws off his chest, the rambunctious heap of mocha colored curls the man proudly called his beloved pet sat back to allow her owner a chance to wake up a bit more. Makkachin sat a few feet away, panting with her tongue lolling out and her tail thumping against the comforter. After the man stretched and let out a yawn, reaching for the dog and pulling her towards him, he scratched her ears and kissed her nose to say good morning.

“Ready to start the day?” he asked in a voice laden with sleep. The question elicited a couple of excited yips from the large poodle as he turned and flung herself off the bed and ran towards the bedroom door, sitting down next to it and glancing from the door knob to her owner expectantly. The man let out a chuckle.

After getting up slowly, allowing himself to stretch one last time and run a hand through his sleep-ridden silver tresses, he walked over to his dresser and pulled out a pair of workout shorts and a plain gray t-shirt and slipped them on. He then went and opened the bedroom door, the dog instantly taking off running down the hall and downstairs to the kitchen. The man let out a small laugh, rolling his eyes fondly.

The pup did it every single morning: the man would wake up, and she’d beat feet to the door so she could be the first one out of the room. And once that door was open, you might as well forget any thought of keeping her sitting in that spot, because she was a goner. He wasn’t sure why the dog developed this habit, never being able to chase after her fast enough to find out what was so important about being the first one downstairs. He didn’t mind it, not at all. It was one of the few things that never failed to make him smile every day.

The man didn’t follow her so quickly this time around, still trying to shoo away the sleep that kept pecking at his mind to go back to bed. He imagined little dwarves hacking away at his brain with magic sleep-inducing pickaxes, all hitting him in a rhythm that was simultaneously irritating and enticing.

Instead of going downstairs, he went into his on-suite to splash some icy water on his face. He stood in front of the right side of the counter where his sink resided, he looked at his reflection in the mirror above the sink for a moment before he turned on the faucet. Cupping his hands beneath the stream, he lifted them and splashed the water on his face, sighing as the cold snapped away those thwarting dwarves. He shook out his hands, turned the faucet off, and hunched over as he placed both hands on the sides of the basin.  

Beads of water trickled down his face, glistening like gems in the early morning sunlight that filtered in through the bathroom window. It dripped down from the top of his forehead and down the crown of temples to the indents beneath his eyes, from his sharp nose down to the corners of his mouth down past his set jaw and off into the sink. He studied himself. Cobalt blue stared back.

Was it narcissistic to know that you were an attractive person? Maybe, but this man felt that he was not the right person to be asking that sort of question. Many people, anywhere from charmed adults to teenagers bold enough to approach him in such a manner, had let him know just how handsome they thought he was all throughout his adulthood. The compliments he got ranged anywhere from his structured, handsome face, his stunning silver hair that framed his features, dashing blue eyes where the color alone could knock your train of thought right off its tracks, and a bright white smile that enthralled even the most reserved of people.

These were not his words, however, just a collection of descriptions amounted into basic knowledge from the loads of comments he had received throughout the years.

Sometimes, when he looked in the mirror, he did see what (he assumed) other people saw: an attractive, sturdy man with looks that could kill, and he was appreciative for that. Other times, he merely gave himself a onceover and shrugged his appearance off, uncaring and dismissive. It wasn’t so much that he was insecure about himself. No, it was nothing of that sort. Rather, he thought that he would like to have himself be judged on the content of his character and not visual appeal. Most of the time, if not all of it, he wished people would judge him based on the latter option.

His eyes traveled to the sides of his face, seeing where the hints of gray stubble collided with his pale, freckled cheeks. Oil and water. They drifted back towards the center of his face, noticing the crease that separated his mouth from his cheeks and how deep they were. They moved upward towards the top of his head, and stopped just at his hairline. Frowning, he lifted a hand to brush back the sweep that covered the left half of his face. His eyes narrowed in disbelief.  _Has my forehead always been that large, or has my hairline just been receding?_ The man thought a little irritably as he noticed the sunlight glinting off his forehead. (Okay, maybe he was insecure about  _one thing)._ He hoped it was only the former. He shouldn’t have to start worrying about hair loss for another 8-10 years.

He stood up straight, allowing the silver sweep to drape over and shield his face again. The man stared back at the overall reflection of himself with a hardened gaze, as if staring at it would suddenly convoke the image to speak to him.

He could almost feel the cogs in his head whirring, spinning at a speed unprecedented to him before. For what reason they were spinning he could not say, all he knew was that they were working themselves to the bone as he tried finding a reason as to why he was thinking so hard.

When it became unsuccessful, everything shut down. The man eyed his reflection one more time before giving up with a sigh. He should know better than to try and receive answers from a large rectangular piece of reflective glass.

Slightly confused yet the want of hunger tugging at his senses, the man gave the counter in front of him a quick examination to confirm that everything was as it should be before moving to leave. His eyes looked quickly over his side of the counter, then to the twin sink that sat to the left of his.

The other sink sat unused, for the man lived by himself save for the poodle as his pet. Dogs don’t use sinks (at least, to his knowledge, they didn’t), and he only needed one sink to surround his toiletry products with, so it remained bare.

His brow furrowed in thought. Looking back to his side of the sink, he realized that not a single item of his belongings occupied the other side of the counter, all of them strictly placed on his side: his toothbrush and toothpaste, his hand soap, his lotion, facewash, hair products, razor, the list goes on.

Eyes traveled back and forth between the spaces curiously. A thought had barely begun to dawn on him, too small to decipher clearly. It sat in the back of his mind as it nagged and taunted him to come and try to find it. He felt like he should know it, recognize it easily enough. It felt like it was something so glaringly obvious, something he should know like that back of his hand, but was just too complicated for his oblivious brain to comprehend. The crease in his brow deepened for a moment, trying to conjure up the reason as to what exactly it was trying to say before he suddenly stopped himself.

This is incredulous, he thought. Why in the world was he thinking so hard about a damn  _countertop?_  It was a slab of marble on top of a wooden base for Christs’ sake, yet his mind was treating it like some type of figurative language. The man briefly reminisced about his English and Philosophy professors before he scoffed. Rolling his eyes at the counter, he turned away, acting as though it had made a personal offence against him.

What the man hadn’t begun to fully realize yet was that the sight of the barren left side of the counter had made that heavy little weight in his stomach from earlier snowball twice its size.

At last, he made his way downstairs to find where his dog had run off to. Surprisingly, she wasn’t running all around the house like she usually was in the morning. Instead, he found her standing at the back door, paws fidgeting as she awaited an early morning romp in the backyard.

He walked over to unlock the slider and pulled it open, watching her tear out into the yard and after a squirrel. The man stood there chuckling to himself while she barked and chased the little fiend, telling them to stay away from her territory.

Watching her grab a toy and tear around the yard for a few minutes, the man soon enough let his winded puppy back in. Despite being a little tuckered, the dog immediately stood up on her hind legs to place her front paws on his torso. She barked at him happily, hopping up to give him a slobber filled kiss on the chin.

“Easy, there pretty girl,” he giggled as he took her paws into his hands and held her there. “You must be hungry. Want some breakfast?” he cooed to her. She flailed out of her owners grasp and spun around on her paws when they hit the floor, running over to the pantry where she knew her breakfast awaited.

After the dog had wolfed down her food and waddled off into the living room with her belly full, the man got himself a glass of water and a granola bar. He ate quickly, wanting to go on his morning run as soon as possible so that he could run his mounted frustrations in life into the ground.

He chugged the glass of water in a matter of seconds after he swallowed his last mouthful of food, and he went over to the closet by the staircase to retrieve his running shoes. As soon as the dog heard the signature creak of the closet door, she came running into the foyer so fast that when she tried putting on the breaks, she slid three feet across the hardwood floors. Grinning, the man sat down on the second stair to put his socks and shoes on. After, he stood up to grab the dog leash from off the railing and latched it onto her collar, the puppy becoming increasingly restless.

Unlocking the door and stepping outside into the warm, muggy June air, the man tried plugging his headphones into his phone as he made his way down the steps, his attempts futile in that the dog on the other end of the leash he was holding kept jerking him along. He got to the end of the short driveway, as Makkachin was distracted by the scents of the rival dogs encroaching on her territory around their mailbox, before he could plug in his headphones.

Choosing an 80’s Hits playlist on his Spotify, about to hit play, he heard his name being called off to the side of him. He swung around to see who it was, recognizing an elderly lady smiling and waving at him from the driveway next to his.

“Good morning, Viktor!” he’d heard her call out. Miss Anderson, his sweet, little old next-door neighbor was waving at him, a smile plastered her wrinkled face. He smiled and waved back, tugging at Makkachin’s leash to go and say hi to their neighbor.

* * *

 

There are things in life that make one realize just how inevitable or preventable something may be. Viktor was beginning to better understand this concept the more time progressed.

Recently, he had begun to realize certain things, certain things he would never like to openly admit. One of these things, and probably the one that ruled out all others, is that he knows he is missing out on something. He’s not fully aware of what it is, but what he does know is that it’s something so important that it eats at him ceaselessly for hours on end with no answer or plausible solution coming to mind. Although he can’t exactly describe them in a literal sense, Viktor knows that what these things are, are things that can only be found when you come upon the right place at the right time.

He could think and wonder, and think some more, squander his precious time over the mystery until his face was red and his mind turned to mush, but no matter how hard he tried, the answers never revealed itself. Only until fate had decided that the time was right was the moment everything would finally be able to come together; if there was such a thing as fate. But that’s an entirely different discussion.

Despite it all, Viktor tries his hardest to hide those perplexing thoughts, store them in the corners of his mind where he doesn’t dare ever touch unless he so desperately needs to. They’re placed with the most horrid of his thoughts: dark, ugly and unforgiving. They rear their disgusting heads during the times he feels most low, a reminder to himself as to why he is the way he is. They come for the clarity of his mind with intense ferocity, a ravenous pack of wolves that seek nothing but corruption and to destroy.

In a way, they’re like his own form of Pandora’s’ Box: a container filled with the evilest thoughts a man could will against himself buried deep in the blackest depths of his mind, exploding and unleashing their horrors at the worst of times.

Viktor had fought against his demons for many years, putting every ounce of his energy into taming and sealing them away as best he could. But no matter how hard he tried, they always managed to escape somehow, and they always managed to escape at some of the worst of times. Sometimes, they came when he felt worthless, his stability gone and his mental state at an all-time low. They came to help worsen his condition, and they didn’t leave until they felt like they had done enough damage.

Other times they came out of nowhere. They came even when he felt good about himself, when he felt like if he was to stand atop the highest building in the city and jump, he would sprout wings akin to an angel, and begin to fly. They came to tear off his wings, rip them off to send him plummeting back towards the ground. His demons remained until his dignity and pride were left in shards on the ground around him, only then did they slink back into the hellhole from which they came.

Really, it didn’t matter what the time was or how he was feeling; when those thoughts escaped their barriers, they came to set a reminder to himself that he was to stay in his place or else he would face severe consequences.

But lately his demons had remained dormant in the back of his mind, only emerging in the most desperate of times. Yet when they did come for him, each time they left they had left less and less damage than the time before. Viktor had noticed this, and had triumphantly thought that he was beginning to overcome those haunting thoughts even more. But there was always that hint of anxiety that piped up in the back of his mind, reminding him that nothing was ever that simple. Sometimes it told him that they were just waiting for the right moment to strike back, waiting so that when he was at his worst point, they might come back to do some real, permanent damage.

However, Viktor was usually too giddy with himself to ever really pay any mind to that idea, telling himself that all his arduous work was beginning to pay off. But there were always times when he doubted himself. That never went away with time, unfortunately. 

If he were to be honest, he can’t recall a time he’s ever told anyone about these feelings. Not once in his life. Not his parents, his other family members, his closest friends, no one. He had thought about it, thought about it long and hard, sharing these things with someone so he could try to have them understand, to help him combat the monsters in his mind. But every time he felt like acting on it, deciding that he was finally going to seek an outlet for himself, he had stopped himself short. Each time he second guessed himself. Each time he was convinced that no one would really care; and it was fatal.

From the time he lost his first baby teeth, to now, the ripe age of 32 years old, Viktor has never been what you’d consider to be a social butterfly. Sure, talking to people wasn’t something he found difficult, and it’s not like he ever felt an overwhelming sense of anxiousness when it came to socialization, he just never found it to be something he’d consider spending hours wasting away on.

This isn’t to say he never had a lot of friends or people he could talk to, however. Viktor definitely had his fair share of them over the course of his life. From the kids he hung around during his ice skating sessions back when he was still a kid, and now, the copious amounts of work friends he feels comfortable around enough to talk about meager issues with.

And yet, things never changed. No matter how many people he had to call a friend, the clutches of isolation clung to him wherever he went. It was disease, slowly encasing his body in a mold of fear and abandonment.

While it may have been evident to any other onlooker that he was simply walking on the clouds, with his nice house and a dog for a best friend, with the many friends he had made and a well-paying job, Viktor knows it’s much more than that. There’s always more to the story when you’re someone like Viktor, not one page that could be left blank in the novel of his life. No one would ever be able to understand that if they only read the summary, only getting an idea of what it was like and not bothering to dig deeper. They would never understand if they didn’t look beyond what was known, discovering the elements and the hidden meanings that made Viktor into the man he truly is; but no one had ever gone that far, maybe one or possibly two people attempting to go that distance, but never making it anywhere close to the goal.

Viktor knows that, while he does care for his friends and his family, they certainly don’t fill that missing piece he knows still needs to be found.

After his early morning jog, Viktor came back home feeling a lot more refreshed, and ate something a little more substantial than the energy bar he had earlier. He showered, dressed himself in work clothes, and finished his last-minute preparations before heading off to work. He came down the stairs dressed in a sharp black suit with a red tie thrown over his shoulder.

Side-stepping Makkachin who had slugged down a gallon of water then sprawled herself out in the middle of the foyer after their tiring jog, Viktor opened the closet and pulled out his dress shoes and quickly put them on, haphazardly tying the laces and not bothering to double check his work. He went into the kitchen and grabbed his car keys, phone and red tie, stuffing the latter two items in his jacket pocket as he slung his work bag over his shoulder and stuffed his tie into it. He didn't have time to try and put it on, not that he really could anyways. Viktor may be a smart man, but every person has at least one thing they're not good at. For him, it was tying ties.

The man gave his dog a quick peck on the head and a scratch under her chin before he was out the door and unlocking his sleek, lavish black car he had decided to invest in a couple years ago. The sun, which was much higher in the sky now that it was around 8:30 in the morning, was steadily throwing more of its heat onto the earth as the muggy June morning wore on. Viktor started up his car, blasting the AC to shove out the humidity and sweltering summertime heat. Shifting the gear into reverse, he got to the end of the driveway and looked both ways to make sure no one was coming down the road on either side, and finished backing out.

Viktor drove down the street, eyes flicking back and forth between the houses that zipped past him every now and again. He slowed down as he approached the intersection at the end of the street, signaling his directional and preparing to turn onto the main road. He looked left, and then he looked right, and left again, and once he was sure no one was coming, he pulled out onto the main road.

Now, there are two things Viktor enjoys most about his day: going on runs with Makkachin, and getting a mocha frappuccino from his favorite coffee shop everyday like the basic white girl he knows he is.

Ever since he moved into his quiet neighborhood within the suburbs, he can’t recall a day off the top of his head where he didn’t start his morning with his girl, then heading to the coffee shop to get the same old drink before he went off to work. It was his daily routine.

A consistent one, might he add. Even throughout those days where he felt so bad he couldn’t even comprehend why, and the times where all he wanted to do was lie in bed with the curtains drawn and covers draped over himself to shield out all the bad in he world, he found solace in that he could slip into this little routine of his every morning. It was one of the few things in his ever-shifting life that he could keep the same no matter where he went or what he decided to do.

Viktors conscious being is like a ship, a seemingly strong and sturdy thing that tried very hard at staying afloat, and that his mental state and emotions were the water that he sailed on. Over time, the waves of the sea had grown restless and more dangerous as his frustration grew, his ship beginning to take a beating from the rising tides, and the threat of being overtaken was constant.

Yet, in a way, his seemingly insignificant morning routine was like the anchor to his ship. It secured him, provided a foothold for himself when he felt like he was beginning to drift off: an outlet for his dissatisfaction. This anchor of his was one of the only things capable of preventing himself from being swept away, to keep his unsteady and fragile ship stable in his own growing sea of madness he was so desperate not to drown in.

He drove through a smaller town that lied just beyond the city’s edge, humming the lyrics to the music that softly echoed from the radio and throughout the otherwise silent car. Viktor spotted the family run businesses and little shops that were set up on every block. He watched the people wander down the street; ordinary, nothing special’s just like he was, either dressed in business clothes of those in the workforce or those in casual clothes that were just as savvy as the name of their type of dress suggested.

After making a few more turns down the road, Viktor slowed down the car and turned into a parking lot right outside of his favorite coffee shop. “Nikolai Coffee’s and Pastries” read a bright green sign as he pulled in and shifted the gear into park. He laughed a little as he watched a group of young girls making their way out of the shop, making loud conversation with one another, coffee cups in hand. He didn’t care if he seemed a little bit basic, going to the same coffee shop that was undoubtedly a designated hang out spot for young females. The coffee was damn good.

The man turned off the ignition, the rumbling of the engine going quiet. Grabbing his wallet and his phone, he opened the door and stepped out, hitting the lock button twice as he closed the door and hopped up onto the curb. He would be glad to say that business was about average at this time, not too lively, but not too dull as he opened the doors to the shop. He allowed the refreshing smell of coffee beans and pastries to waft out along with the light chatter of people’s mingled conversations that rang in his ears.

Viktor couldn’t tell you exactly why he chose this specific shop out of all the others, but there were many reasons why he liked it better than the other ones he had been to. Maybe it was the location, just a short ten-minute drive from his neighborhood, secluded in a sleepy town just beyond the reaches of the hustling and bustling city.

Maybe it was the taste of their foods and beverages, adding more flavor to their swirls of coffee and the flakiness to their breads and pastries that gave his taste buds an added dose of sweetness.

Maybe it was how he felt so welcomed when he opened the doors, the sounds and smells that rushed towards him and reached out, as if trying to greet him in a warm embrace. The feeling he got when he opened the doors to the shop was something indescribable for the most part, except for the fact that it calmed the waves of his sea until they were nothing more than harmless, docile ripples. Of all these things, he could never pinpoint the exact location in his heart that spoke to him, told him which of these was of the upmost importance to him. All that really mattered was that he was able to support such a charming little shop and provide his continued business.

Viktor took in the sights as he entered through the doorframe, his eyes flitting around as he took note of what he saw. It felt nice to step into the shop and have a wave of chilly air pummel his face, soothing his slightly sticky skin under the stuffiness of his suit. His gaze lazily drifted around the dully lit room, the pine green walls and the pictures that adorned them setting a relaxing mood. Paintings, some he decided were good and others he thought were rather plain and cliché, dotted the walls here and there to give them some much needed character.

His eyes immediately took him to his favorite painting in the shop, one he had muddled over for ages yet never grew tired at taking a moment to ponder its message. The painting was of two trees at the forefront of a forest, a body of water reflecting the image beneath them. The trees were green, ripe with the promise of life and the budding of new beginnings. The water beneath them was light and clear, still and seemingly silent. Yet in the background of it all, loomed a dark, sinister looking forest, which clashed with its contrasting foreground.

He paused his musings briefly as he moved up in line, coming to a stop next to a rustic wooden table. He let his hand gently glide over the rough surface, letting his fingers stand on their ends and tap a drumming rhythm onto the surface as the cogs in his head began to whir again.

The trees in the foreground of the picture stood side by side. It appeared that they were even with one another in terms of distance from the water that sat in front of them and the forest that loomed back in the distance. Judging from the dark brush stroked in the background, he figured that the forest that sat behind the two trees was either dead, or in its current state, lifeless. He could see no green leaves on their branches, laid bare and naked to the air. But what struck him most about the picture was not the dead forest, or the two lone trees or the river, but it was how the whole image itself was blurred. Not so much blurred in a censorship-type way, but in a way where it took just a little more focus from the eyes of an observer to fully understand what the picture was depicting.

It was like you were looking at the scene from a fogged window, hidden yet still visible in some way, and in order for the observer to clearly see the sight for themselves, they would have to wipe away that fog or the grime that prevented them from seeing it clearly: to do away the obstruction in front of them and discover something new.

Viktor was immensely puzzled, yet also slightly amused: this was truly an odd day for him. First, he got a little weird about the other half of his bed that morning, then he had began thinking way too deeply about a sink, and now he was muddling over a painting. A painting that was probably just a depiction of something merely described as interesting, not intending to be mind-blowing and ‘wow’ Viktor into fascination. He mentally rolled his eyes at himself, scoffing again at his own foolishness.

He heard an angry voice erupt somewhere to the side of him, and he turned his attention back just in time for him to realize that he was next in the line. As the person in front of him shifted out of his way, they revealed an angry, blonde mass of teenage angst and full-on animosity standing behind the counter looking like he was trying his hardest not to blow up into a million pieces. As his blue-green eyes shifted back in front of him, the blonde teens poorly kept veneer finally shifted into its purest form: sheer disgust. He groaned in annoyance and bared his teeth, glaring at Viktor with a gaze as scalding as the blue of a fire’s flame.

 “Ugh, what are you doing here old man?” he grumbled irritably, blowing a strand of hair out of his face that had fallen from his unkempt pony tail. The teen lazily hunched over the counter, resting his head in his hand and glared up at the man in front of him from beneath his lashes. Viktor felt the corners of his mouth turn upwards a bit at the notoriously unwelcoming tone in his voice. Such genuine hospitality, he thought.

“Wow, it’s nice to see you too, Yuri,” he said with a slight pout, not that he was expecting the teens attitude to change with it. “You know I come here every morning, so what’s with the attitude?” He put a hand on his hip and tilted his head to the side to look at the ever so angry kid with a smug expression, who in turn merely clicked his tongue.

“Yeah, whatever. Do you want your usual or not? It’s gonna get busy soon and I don’t have time to deal with you, so either order what you want or get out of the way,” Yuri growled.

Viktor had known Yuri ever since he first moved into his current house. Over time, he began to learn more and more about the teen, and was most surprised to find out that he was the grandson of the man who owned the shop, and that every summer for the past five years and occasionally on winter and spring breaks, Yuri would come here on his vacations to spend time with his grandfather and help him with work. The teen had always acted like it was some sort of chore to work at his grandfathers’ shop, always voicing his apparent displeasure for it, but Viktor knew that deep down in that furious little heart of his, Yuri actually quite enjoyed working and helping out his grandfather.

When Viktor had first moved into the neighborhood feeling like a newborn colt trying to stand on wobbly, unstable legs whilst trying to catch his bearings, Yuri was one of the first faces he had been graced by (sort of). Viktor discovered just how moody the blond was, and how his temper flared up by even the smallest things that seemed only mildly irritable to someone with normal anger levels. Despite this, there was never a day where he didn’t take at least some pleasure in pushing the kids’ buttons. Viktor laughed.

“Yes, yes, I’ll have my usual. Yeesh, don’t go getting your kitty collar tied in a knot there, Yuri,” he said in a sing song voice with a sarcastic wink thrown in there for good measure. Yuri, unfortunately, did not take his offhanded comment lightly. Instead, it looked as if he had just been possessed by Satan himself as his face contorted, a seething rage practically coming off the teen in waves. Oh, he had done it now.

“You are  _so_  lucky gramps is working today…” the teen grit out through his teeth, punctuating every word as he spat them out. Viktor handed him his debit card, his poorly concealed laughter coming back full force as the teen ripped the card out of his hand and furiously swiped it through the machine. “One more comment like that from you and I’ll rip your head off and feed it to my cat,” he snarled, slapping Viktor’s card down on the counter once the transaction was completed and stormed away to go make the drink. Giggling, Viktor shuffled down to the “pick-up” counter to allow the next person in line to step in and order. If he peeked over just enough, he could see the blonde teen muttering to himself as he angrily and grudgingly made his coffee. Viktor snorted, taking out his phone and leaning against the wall as he waited.

After a minute or two, Viktor heard the stomping of footsteps from behind the counter growing closer. He slid his phone back into his pocket, turning around just as Yuri was slamming a cup down in front of him.

“Here you go, you fucker,” he said, shoving it over to him. Viktor gasped in feigned shocked.

“Yuri, such unsuitable language for the workplace!” he exclaimed sarcastically, reaching forward and taking the scalding coffee away from the teen before he decided to use it as a weapon.

“I’ll show you unsuitable language, geezer,” he hissed out, shoulders hunched so he was crouched lower to the counter. Reminiscent of a cat getting ready to pounce, Viktor thought amusingly. He let out a loud, barking laugh.

“As much as I would love to stay and chat Yuri, I really need to get to work, as you should go back to your own,” he gestured to the entirety of the coffee shop, sending the teen a parting wink as he sipped his coffee. The teen rolled his eyes and let out a growl before whipping around and storming off.

Viktor watched him go into the back room bemusedly, turning and heading for the door once the teen was out of sight. He pulled out his phone again, the time reading 8:57AM. His eyes widened. He was going to be late.

He opened the door and hurriedly headed back over to his car, unlocking it and getting inside of it once he jumped down onto the pavement. He started up his car, but noticed someone pull up next to him as he shifted into reverse. He huffed impatiently as the person got out of the car and grabbed their belongings, shutting the door and making their way up to the shop doors. Viktor was about to pull away from the parking spot when the man suddenly stopped, turned around, and jogged back to his car to grab something. A little annoyed, Viktor stopped and watched the man fish through his car for whatever it was he needed. His annoyance and all thoughts about being late to work vanished as soon as he got a better look at the man.

He was to his liking, to put it simply. Viktor found everything about his appearance utterly adorable: He had shaggy black hair that came down over his forehead, the kind that made him want to reach out and ruffle it. He wore big, blue framed glasses that would make any other person look like a nerd, but to Viktor, they just added to his cuteness factor. He was a little on the shorter side, Viktor guessing he’d come up to maybe about his chin, but he smiled at the thought anyways. And to top it all off, the man wore navy blue scrubs that vividly reminded him of the ocean.

But that realization suddenly struck him: if the man was wearing scrubs, wouldn’t that mean he was a doctor?

A doctor of what kind he wasn’t sure, but a doctor nonetheless. And he knew what that meant: the man was smart, and college educated. And oh, how he  _loved_  himself a well-educated man who could talk to him for hours on stuff he knew he could never hope to understand. It was endearing to see how passionate one becomes when they talked about their professions, especially when you got to call that someone your significant other. 

He watched as the man swung the door to the café open, allowing a couple to walk out with a friendly smile on his face before entering the shop. Polite and cute, Viktor thought to himself as he watched the man. He could see through the tinted windows that Yuri had returned to the register, and that when this mystery man made it up to him in line, Yuri seemed to recognize him. He gave the mystery a look very similar to the one's he gives Viktor on a daily basis: a grimace followed by a menacing glare. Viktor was elated.  _He even gets the same looks Yuri gives me, he's got to be special!_  He thought excitedly. If he wasn’t already, Viktor was now completely and utterly enthralled.

It appeared that he and this mystery man had at least one thing in common with each other so far, and his desire grew with every passing second as his adventurous mind began creating wild scenarios in his head. Viktor was a suave man, he knew that he could whisk a person off their feet with the bat of an eyelash or a flash of his bright smile. Yet he also knows that he hasn’t even asked for this man’s name yet, hasn’t stood within a five foot radius of him. The rational side of him begged Viktor to at least talk to the guy first before he started planning the wedding. He knew that if he was serious about chasing after him on a whim, that these things take time. And who was to say that the man would even feel remotely the same way towards Viktor? Who was to say that Viktor would even be interested in him even after their first words were spoken to each other? But that was a thought Viktor didn’t want to continue with, so he cleared it from his mind before it could shroud him in doubt. He was getting a little bit ahead of himself, both rationally and irrationally.

His prying eyes continued to watch as the man finished paying and Yuri left to go get whatever it was the man had ordered. The man slid out of sight behind a crowd of people waiting in line, and his disappearance snapped Viktor out of his little trance. That prickling feeling of  _oh shit, what time is it?_  crept into his skin, and he slowly turned to look at the clock.

8:59.

_Fuck._

He was going to get an earful from his boss.

Praying traffic wasn’t going to be bad, Viktor hastened to buckle his seat belt and shift the car into reverse, checking to make sure there was no traffic coming before he hurriedly backed out of the space, shifted into drive, and slammed the gas pedal. The tires may or may not have made an ear-splitting screeching noise, but Viktor was deaf to it as he flew down the road. He also hoped there were no cops patrolling the area that morning.

* * *

 

Viktor reached his destination within fifteen minutes. He pulled into the parking garage, a little dazed as to how he made it there without getting pulled over, or worse, leading police on a high-speed chase.

After sitting in his car for a few moments wondering if police were currently tracking him down for reckless driving, Viktor grabbed his items and got out. He locked his car and headed for the sidewalk. Once he was out of the garage and on the sidewalks of the city, he turned left, hurriedly walking in the direction of his building.

After a few minutes, he could vaguely make out the shape of a tall, dark building that loomed over the other, more smaller ones on the block. It stood out like a sore thumb, but it also gave passerby’s an eerie warning to keep away. It wasn’t a good message, Viktor thought. He thought many times about how he wanted to have a little talk with the contractor or architect, whoever it was that thought it was a clever idea to construct a building that looked like the older sister to that creepy demonic house thing from Monster House. At least it looked better on the inside, he thought.

** Feltsman Law Firm **

The company logo stared him mockingly in the face as he pushed open the door to the building. Viktor silently berated himself for getting carried away over his swooning for that mystery man. His other half argued that it was worth it, though.

He the man pushed his way through the revolving doors to the building and entered the spacious lobby. At the back end of the room sat a large gold desk with a plaque that said "Reception." Peering over the top of the desk, he smiled when he saw an older woman sit up in her chair, her amiable look giving way to a more shocked and slightly concerned one when she noticed Viktor. She glanced at her clock before looking back to him.

“My goodness Viktor, you’re usually much more consistent with your arrival time. What’s different today, should I be worried?” She asked as she took a sip out of her coffee mug that read “Mommin’ ain’t easy.” Viktor laughed sheepishly.

“I’m not sure, Nancy, I guess today just isn’t my day,” he said. He reached into his bag and pulled out the red tie he had grabbed from his closet that morning and held it up. She rolled her eyes fondly at him.

“And I see that you didn’t bother to watch any of those videos I had recommended to you. Five years you’ve been working here, Viktor, and you still don’t know how to tie a tie?” she sighed, standing up as she grabbed the tie from him and made a gesture with her hand to come behind the desk. Viktor stuck out his bottom lip at her.

“But it’s hard! Why would someone even think it was a good idea to invent something as hard as tying a tie?” he whined. The receptionist scoffed at him, blowing a strand of slightly graying hair out of her face as she tried to concentrate.

“No, I think you’re just not trying hard enough. _I_ know how to do this, and I don't even wear ties! " she teased. "And who knows, maybe one day I won’t be here to tie your ties for you. So, I highly suggest you’d start teaching yourself before it comes back to bite you in the butt one day,” She scolded him as she looped the tie this way and that. Viktor felt like he was ten again getting in trouble for being irresponsible.

Nancy was a kind, older woman who had been working here as a receptionist even before Viktor had started working there. She was friendly to everyone, not just because she had to be, and always had this happy aura to her. Not once had Viktor seen her get to be more than a little agitated. She had taken on sort of this maternal role to Viktor, and it fit well with his child like behaviors that came about every now and again. He knew that her kids were in college now, and that she had no one left to really dote on. The combined forces of their personalities drew them together like Yin and Yang. She was one of the few people who Viktor trusted with his deepest darkest secrets with, if he really had any. Viktor’s eyes widened a little at the comment.

“Wait… you’re not leaving, are you?” he asked hesitantly. Nancy rolled her eyes again as she pulled the tie up snug to Viktor’s collar, adjusting it until she deemed it worthy. She gave him a look.

“No, I’m not. I just used that kind of situation as motivation to get you to start teaching yourself how to tie your own ties, Viktor,” she reached up to pinch his cheek and smiled at Viktor’s groan in protest, “but what I’m curious about is why you’re here so late today. That’s not like you at all! Are you feeling okay?” she asked, looking up at him with her brows drawn together in concern. Viktor sighed and smiled a little.

“Oh, it was nothing bad, I just stopped to ogle at guy I saw at the coffee shop I go to every morning,” he said, images of the man flashing in is memory at the mere mention of him. Nancy let out an “ah” of understanding.

“I see, and was this cute man you saw worth being—” she paused to look at her watch, “almost ten minutes late to work?” she asked, looking back up at him with a questioning gaze. Viktor inwardly cringed a little from her scrutinizing look, but he looked back at Nancy with a calm smile.

“Yes, he was indeed worth being ten minutes late,” he claimed matter-of-factly. Nancy relented, letting out a huff and shaking her head.

“Oh Viktor, what am I going to do with you,” she chuckled before allowing her motherly persona to take over again. She pointed a manicured finger at him threateningly, “Now, it’s time for work. No more dilly dallying, get upstairs before I have to call Yakov to come haul you up there himself. You’re already late for work enough as it is, and I will not be partly to blame for your inconsistency,” she ordered, turning him around and pushing him towards the elevator. Viktor swore he’d buy that woman a yacht someday.

After wishing each other good days and heading over to the elevator, Viktor selected button to the fourth highest floor to the building. Leaning his head against the wall, he briefly reminisced about the memory of the mystery doctor man before the telltale ding told him he had arrived at his floor.

The elevator doors opened to reveal three large hallways to his right, left, and in front of him. Viktor walked straight, counting the number of doors that went by before he came upon the one he was looking for. Getting out his keys, he flipped through them until he found the one that matched to the door. Once the door was pushed open, he flicked on the lights, setting his stuff down onto a bench beside the door, and shrugged off his jacket and hung it up on the coat rack. He picked up his bag, and brought it over to his desk before going and shutting the door behind him.

 

**_Viktor Nikiforov_ **

**_Animal Legal Defense Attorney_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start off by saying thank you for choosing to read this garbage if you even made it this far. I've never really written before but i know that i love to write so i may as well start improving my skills now, plus I wanted to try my hand at writing for a fandom I'm hopelessly obsessed with. If there was some slight chance that you actually even enjoyed this shit heap, there's more where that came from! So please hang in there (I don't blame you if you don't want to) for the next chapter which should be out soon!
> 
> Say hi to me bc im a lonely soul :')  
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**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and thank you for choosing to read this fic! My name is Hannah, and I am the sole author of this work. I really have absolutely no idea how this all works, and I'm still kind of just dipping my toe into writing fanfics, but I do know that I do have a real passion for writing and that I really would love for this fic to be completed one day. If you're wondering when the actual first chapter is going to come out, no worries, it should be very soon. It's in the final stages of revision and chapter two has already been started as well! So thank you for reading and please stick around for more!  
> If you'd like to follow me on social media for information on updates, you can follow me on these accounts:  
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